Wedding Waltz
by yuuram2fangirl
Summary: Because, in the end, humans are humans no matter how much they act like Gods.
**Wedding Waltz**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own Sherlock.**

 **Author Notes:** **My first time writing Sherlock fanfiction. I know it isn't that entire well written and is probably OOC but please bear with me since it is my first one. Would love suggestions.**

John shouldn't have been surprised that yet other boring case- Sherlock's words- had turned into a chasing-the-suspect-around-the-city scenario. That always tended to happen when Sherlock was involved with cases.

Now they were in middle of another chase; running through the streets and alleys trying to catch the murderer.

He could see Sherlock's coat bellowing behind him and he fastened his place to keep up with his friend. He did wonder how Sherlock could be so _bloody_ fast when he was the one who exercised regularly while the self-proclaimed sociopath laid about the whole day. But then that was Sherlock for you. Full of surprises.

John let a fond smile touch his lips as they rounded the corner and continued their chase.

He was glad to have Sherlock back in his life. Of course, he had been slowly healing when he thought Sherlock was dead, mostly through Mary's help, but he didn't deny that there would have always been a small part of him that would have remained dead with the detective.

As they vaulted over a low fence- John having more difficulty then the other two tall men- John managed to overtake Sherlock in a burst of speed. Now it was him leading the chase while Sherlock ran just a few steps behind him.

He was glad that Mary hadn't forced him to choose between her and Sherlock unlike his previous flings; he loved them both too much for that. But then that was the reason he had married Mary. She was sweet, kind, patient, loving and understanding. While his previous girlfriends had all but threw a tantrum and broke up with him because of Sherlock, Mary had been the one who helped him forgive his best friend. Because she understood that John needed Sherlock as much as he wanted Mary.

"John!" Sherlock snapped; John was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts and he glanced behind him only to see Sherlock moving towards him with a panicked expression. He wondered why Sherlock was suddenly looking so worried and focusing on him instead of the criminal but he didn't need to think for long. The suspect came to a stop and had turned towards them. A loud bang and suddenly there was a bullet coming whizzing towards him.

John Watson, being a soldier had very quick reflexes but there were days when things didn't go your way. For some reason his brain seemed to be disconnected from his body and despite the commands to jump out of the way his body refused to oblige and stayed rooted on the spot.

It was Sherlock; brilliant, crazy Sherlock who pushed him out of the way.

All of a sudden, time suddenly sped up as he crashed to the pavement and groaned at the impact. He was going to have bruises tomorrow. Of course, that was a minor problem as compared to the fact that they had let the suspect get one up on them. He could hear the pounding of footsteps as the suspect took off.

"Bloody hell that was a close one. Who knew he had-" John had turned to look at Sherlock as he tried to get up but immediately ceased his movements when he caught sight of Sherlock lying on the ground motionless.

"Sher-Sherlock?" He didn't know why he had stuttered or why he was hesitating to go beside Sherlock. Normally he would be by his friends side within minutes tending to whatever wound his stupidity had caused. But this time there was something holding him back as he stared at Sherlock for a few more moments. There was something holding him back- something that he couldn't place.

"John?" It was weak but still had the same self-confident tinge to it that John associated to Sherlock. That was all that was needed for John to snap out of his stupor and crawl to Sherlock's side. He felt his legs grumble as he moved; it would be best if he didn't try to stand up now.

"Sherlock? What-" The words died on his lips as he took in the bullet wound. He swallowed. It was a familiar sight; the blood tinging the blue shirt red as it spread across his chest. With a jolt John realized something. The bullet had hit the spot where Mary had shot Sherlock.

John was a doctor and he knew that a wound to the chest was deadly in the best cases if immediate medical attention was not provided. And he had no way to ascertain if the bullet wound was more fatal than the time Mary shot Sherlock.

But it wasn't time for him to freeze up. He had a patient to take care of- because Sherlock was now purely a patient and nothing more.

He swallowed before gently putting Sherlock's head on his lap. The first thing he had to do was make sure that Sherlock didn't die of blood loss. He examined the wound and made a few quick mental notes. He wanted to get up and run for help but his legs didn't feel like they could stand let alone run. And he didn't want to leave Sherlock. So he opted for getting out his phone and calling for an ambulance. His hands were shaking but he ignored it.

"A man has been shot and immediate medical attention is required." His voice was surprisingly steady even as his hands shook.

"Location please." The voice was sharp and crisp.

John paused as he tried to make sense of where they were. The alley way they were currently huddled in offered no clues and-

"By the Golden Bakery." Sherlock muttered. John immediately relayed the address and kept the phone after the ladies assurance that an ambulance was on its way. John was sure that Mycroft too would be on his way after this phone call.

He diverted his attention back to Sherlock who had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply.

"You are going to be fine." He said, more for himself than for Sherlock.

He expected Sherlock to roll his eyes and say, "Obviously." in the high and mighty tone that he usually used but it wasn't what he heard.

"Not this time." Sherlock's all-knowing voice only grated on John's nerves along with the words. He felt a thousand times worse because it was _Sherlock -bloody- Holmes_ who was proclaiming that he wasn't going to be fine.

 _And Sherlock was never wrong._

"Shut up shut up shut up you bastard!" John was vaguely aware of the tears filling up his eyes but at this point of time he no longer cared. The tears didn't spill luckily but he could still feel the urge to cry. _He was angry and pissed but most of all he was scared._ It couldn't be as serious as it looked; Mary had shot Sherlock in the heart but he had survived and was up on his feet within a day.

Sherlock on the other hand smiled wryly- _how dare that git smile at such a moment_ \- and said, "Mary didn't shoot to kill. But this man did." Of course _the bastard_ would know what John was thinking.

"Oh God. Oh God." John mumbled over and over and he tried to think of something to do to save his friend. _He was a bloody doctor there had to be something he could do to save-_

Sherlock was humming. John's first instinct was to snap at him to keep quiet and not put any more strain on his heart but he recognized the tune. Of course there was a part of the brain that was still aching to snap at Sherlock for being so damn stupid.

"Isn't this-" He muttered instead as he concentrated on the tune. Sherlock was going to be fine if he could remember the tune and hum it so fluently.

"The waltz I wrote for yours and Mary's wedding." Sherlock broke off to mumble before continuing to hum it. John didn't try to stop him. He knew that it would be no use trying to stop Sherlock when he was dead set in doing something. And he didn't want Sherlock to stop. He knew that it only made Sherlock weaker but somehow he didn't think it would make a difference. Because it just gave him hope that _Sherlock was okay_ and _he would be fine and-and-_

They sat there for what felt like ages. Sherlock kept humming the tune and there was something jarring about it. A melancholic tone that kept John silent. He was sure that the tune was not supposed to be sad _\- it was a wedding waltz after all_ \- but the way Sherlock was humming it made John feel like he was missing something important.

John could feel his legs going numb but he didn't dare move. His one hand held Sherlock's head steady while the other rested over Sherlock's heart; the place where the bullet was still lodged.

He was contemplating trying to get up and drag Sherlock to the hospital himself when he heard the siren. His head snapped up as he stared wide eyed at the mouth of the alley. He had never been so thankful to hear the jarring siren of the ambulance as he was now. Sherlock would be saved.

"Sherlock you are going to be fine. The ambulance is here." He cried out a smile forming on his face. Sherlock's humming has gotten quieter and John turned to face the man on his lap. Because Sherlock wouldn't let any comment go unanswered without adding a quip or two.

 _He would outlive God trying to get the last word._

Sherlock's eyes were drifting close. John felt his heart give a jolt as he realized what was happening. _Sherlock was dying_. "Hang in there. Just for a few moments. Please Sherlock." He begged knowing that he would just be made fun of if- _when_ \- Sherlock recovers. _Because God help John, Sherlock had to survive._

"John. John." Sherlock smiled and John _hated, hated_ that expression on his usually cold and smug face because it seemed so out of place like he was _giving up_ and giving up was something Sherlock Holmes never even considered. But then John never considered that Sherlock may be more important than Mary and that he would not be able to survive losing him for a second time.

Yet it was still happening.

"The waltz." Sherlock muttered as his breaths became shallower and John's was coming out in gasps as he tried to control his panic attack. _Because Sherlock couldn't just die again_. "It was never written for you and Mary."

"What?" John asked wondering about where this was going and why was Sherlock still talking and _where the bloody hell was the ambulance._

"The waltz was never written for you and Mary." Sherlock looked up to meet John's eyes- his own eyes surprisingly clear for someone who was dying- and smiled. _It was at that moment that John knew Sherlock was not going to be saved._

As if realizing what John was thinking a melancholic look overcame Sherlock's features as he lightly squeezed John's hand that was placed over his heart. "That waltz was meant for us." And with that Sherlock Holmes, highly functioning sociopath and brilliant detective breathed his last.

 _That was how Sherlock Holmes, best friend of John Watson breathed his last._

Because in the end, humans are humans no matter how much they act like Gods.

And Sherlock Holmes, despite his claims of being a sociopath, was as human as the rest of them.

 **Author Notes:** **Um.. I am sorry. My first Sherlock fic and it ended up being a badly written tragedy. Oops. Please leave a review with your suggestions.**


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